


Young at heart and it gets so hard to wait

by baloonflies



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:40:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3224405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baloonflies/pseuds/baloonflies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn wonders if Liam notices how predictable he is, how repeatable, how he does this every time, how I love you is only said when he’s leaving. Or if he knows, is doing it all on purpose to let Zayn know they’ve come to an end again.</p><p>“More than anything” Zayn says, because it’s true. Zayn is the one who loves Liam more than anything, more than his pride and name. He wishes Liam could do this for him too, love him more than he loves leaving him. </p><p>Liam's still scared and Zayn's not afraid to love him</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young at heart and it gets so hard to wait

**Author's Note:**

> hiiii! this is my first ziam fic and i'm quite surprised i wrote it tbh, but the idea has been in my mind for a while, so here it is
> 
> Also lots of art references, cos I'm using my major for writing fics yikes #justarchitecturemajorthings
> 
> huuuuge thank you to [Chevonne](http://babblingblog.tumblr.com/) for being an amazing beta  
> and [Maggie](http://notverypunkofme.tumblr.com/) and [Sylvia](http://zarriallpile.tumblr.com/) this fic wouldn't exist without them, thank you loves

“You discussed the assignment on Facebook?” Zayn nearly shouts, rubbing his temples with two fingers. “What is it, high school?” Neither of them are quite looking at him. These two, Tomlinson said, were his best spies- said they could get anywhere, find information about anything. But now because of these two the whole mission is aborted.

“Do you even know how long we’ve been planning this mission?” Zayn asks, standing up from his chair; he can’t look at them anymore, their faces burning up with guilt like preschoolers. “Since the day of the explosion. Do you know when that happened?” He asks them, watching their reflections in the window as they shake their heads. “Seven fucking months ago!” Zayn shouts. He clicks his teeth together, he should control himself, he has to take care of all the fuck ups on cold mind.

“No one knew our passwords,” one of them says and Zayn doesn’t even want to turn around, thinks he’ll put a bullet through their heads if he does.

“No one knew your passwords?” Zayn laughs, humorless, “Have you met Danny? Do you think he couldn’t find out the password of absolutely any account you’ve owned since you were 12?  You think I’m the only one to have someone like Danny?” he finally turns, laying his palm on his desk and leaning forward.

“I’m sorry” the curly one says. He’s sorry. Zayn’s really glad he’s not holding the gun in his hands or the pieces of his brain would already be around the room.

“He’s sorry,” Zayn repeats bitterly, looking at the blonde one “Are you somehow related? Brothers, cousins? Do you have stupidity in your genes?” He asks, looking him dead in the eyes.

 “Harry’s my boyfriend” the blonde one says quietly. Niall is his name Zayn thinks.

“Excuse me?” Zayn asks leaning closer to him.

“He- Harry...he’s my boyfriend” he says louder, looking down at his hands.

“Oh God,” Zayn mutters, “what do I have here, a dating agency?” He sits down on his desk chair again, running a hand through his hair.

He really wants to fire them now, wants to ditch their dead bodies in the river, but hell if he hadn’t made a mistake or two when he was starting. And God knows he knows how hard it is to find a proper clan that’ll take you with your loved one. And he’s seen that mistake once, the mistake that destroyed his life; he’s not letting it happen again, not ruining other people’s lives.

“You two get out of here now and if I see your face before you are asked to meet me, I’m pulling your nails one by one” he says, taking a deep breath. “Understood?”

“Absolutely” Niall says starting to stand up.

“Thanks, Mr.Malik” Harry says, giving Zayn the puppy dog eyes and following his boyfriend out of the room.

“Fucking idiots.” Zayn sighs. He’s gonna have to call Tomlinson at some point, ask him how these idiots managed to get through Rushmond’s head quarters.

-

Zayn can’t say he wasn’t expecting it. He even changed the scented candles in his office from vanilla to lavender, because _he_ loves lavender, Zayn knows. He remembers when _he_ used to order lavender every morning, putting them by the bed every morning before Zayn woke up with kisses softer than ocean breeze blowing from the open windows being placed all over his body. Remembers smiling fondly as _he_ failed to put soft flowers in Zayn’s hair, huffing furiously as the fell apart in his hands, crinkled petals falling in their breakfast.

He can hear the door to his office being opened. He’s doubled his security, called Paul, asked him for 3 more gunmen around the house. He didn’t bother telling anyone to relax, told them to keep an eye on anything strange. Zayn knows it won’t be a problem for _him_ to get inside; _he_ can put up army of guards around the house and _he_ still will find a way to get inside.

It takes 53 seconds after sound of door closing for silence to be broken, an agonizing 53 seconds when Zayn can hear every breath, every footstep, and every swipe of hands against his desk. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t stop staring at _The Flagellation of Christ_ hung on the wall behind his desk; he wonders when the Louvre will realise they’re missing the original.

“Fancy,” is the first word he hears, first word after the agonizing silence of seven months, “not as good as the last one, what was it?”

“Tintoretto,” Zayn says, “ _Paradise_ ” he smiles around the rim of his glass, the warmth seeping through his body on the sound of familiar voice.

“Ah the famous mistake,” he says. It’s closer, voice cleared now, he’s standing behind Zayn’s chair, right next to him; after seven excruciating months he’s right here, right next to Zayn, just an arm’s length away. It’s his cue to turn around to face him, to see the warmth of familiar eyes again, but he can’t. His feet feel frozen planted on the ground, he can’t do anything other than just smirk and sip from his whiskey. “Had better guys before didn’t you, the ones that don’t discuss million dollar assignments on Facebook” Liam chuckles, it’s so close, right next to Zayn, right here.

“Liam,” Zayn finally turns around and looks up at him, and suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. As many times as it takes- as many months they spend apart to finally come together- Zayn never gets used to it, seeing Liam for the first time after so long. Seeing him sharply dressed in a suit and smelling like fresh morning and smirking down at Zayn.

“Missed you” Liam says, softer, his face softening too, smirk turning into a smile, fond and so beautiful, the one that never fails to make the happiness seep into Zayn’s veins. He puts the glass on his desk and leans back against the chair, smiling up at Liam. Liam smiles, nods and then shakes his head with fondness; he moves forward and slowly sits down on Zayn’s lap, popping his suit’s button open before turning his head to face Zayn.

“Missed you, too” Zayn whimpers and Liam leans forward and kisses him softly, just barely pressing his lips against Zayn’s. It’s not enough. Not enough after countless hours and days and _months_ of being apart. Not enough and too much at the same time, too overwhelming touching Liam, feeling the soft hair on back of his neck and not imaginingg the arm around his neck, thumb pressing to the scar on the side of his throat.

He leans forward a bit more, pressing harder, tightening his hand around Liam. He’s finally here, Zayn thinks, finally, not oceans away. Here for Zayn to touch, for him to love, just for a bit maybe, before he slips out of his life again and Zayn will have to come up with another mission to get to him, to send a message, tell liam _come to me_. But before that they have this, bodies tight in each other’s arms and hearts even tighter.

Liam’s hand against his scar is pressing so hard Zayn can barely breathe, Zayn takes Liam’s wrist in his hand, pulling it away from his throat. Liam whines, muffled mouth against Zayn’s mouth. Tt’s Liam’s, Zayn knows- the scar. Liam’s to touch, Liam’s to kiss, his to remember. He pulls back, looking Liam in those big eyes.

“Can’t breathe, love” he explains, folding Liam’s hand in his. Liam nods and leans forward to rest their foreheads together; he’s breathing hard, Zayn can feel every exhale against his lips, every flutter of eyelashes on his skin.

“Hey” Liam whispers and looks up at Zayn’s eyes, calm and quiet, just like everything about him.

“Hi, love,” Zayn says back, caressing his cheek; he’s freshly shaved, still smells a bit like his favorite aftershave. “Welcome home,” because that’s where they are. Not in this house, not Liam’s, not the hotel room in the Maldives, with each other. That’s only place where they’re home.

-

The morning after is what Zayn looks forward to the most, the only moment when they aren’t rushing anywhere, the only moment when Zayn can look at Liam without his mind alerting him to run. The morning when Liam gets up at 6:30 just to open the windows, because Zayn loves the smell of the morning. When Zayn can lie on the bed and watch Liam sip coffee on the balcony through thin white curtains.

“How was Rome?” Zayn asks when Liam ‘s done with his coffee, walking inside the room and smiling fondly as he sees Zayn stretching on the bed.

“Good,” Liam nods, walking closer to the bed. He’s not taking his eyes off of Zayn, and Zayn loves it, loves being exposed in front of Liam, letting himself be exposed for once, in front of the only person he trusts,. Loves how Liam’s eyes look at him like he knows every dark corner of Zayn, every secret he’s ever hidden from anyone.

“Did your mom like the statue?” Zayn looks up at him, he’s close, one knee on the bed.

“Mhmm,” he hums, touching Zayn’s cheek with his knuckles “She loved it, read every book she could find about Artemis.” He opens his palm and cups Zayn’s face in his hand. It feels so familiar, the distant memory of Liam’s hands gently caressing him; the way they were together last night seems like it was ages ago now.

Liam lays down with him, nudges Zayn’s ribs with his knee and makes him budge, lays next to him and it’s in Zayn’s second nature to roll over and rest his head on Liam’s chest, to listen to his heartbeat and memorize it, keep it beating in his ears before the next time they’ll be together.

“Missed how you smell,” Liam mumbles in his hair, “bought the cologne you use, still doesn’t smell quite like you.”

“Missed everything about you” Zayn says, tracing patterns on Liam’s stomach, trying to cherish everything, every inch of his body while he can.

“How’re the new people working out for you?” Liam asks, hand pressed against Zayn’s scar again, the gesture of fear and affection that never fails to make Zayn’s heart jump. “They had a nice conversation about you on Facebook, almost made me jealous,” he talks calmly, calmer than the barely there waves of the sea outside, sound seeping through Zayn’s ear like a lullaby. “Where are they now? Dead in the ditch?” he chuckles.

“I haven’t fired them,” Zayn says quietly, turning his head just an inch and kissing Liam’s chest, right above his heart.

“Huh?” Liam asks. He’s surprised; everyone was when he let them walk out of his office in one piece.

“They’re together.” Zayn explains as he places another kiss on Liam  “Young and in love,” he says quietly, noticing the goosebumps rise on Liam’s skin as he trails kisses all over his chest, “just like we were.”

“Don’t do th-” Liam starts but Zayn isn’t going to listen now. He’s going to do this, whatever this is, whatever he’s not been doing for 6 years.

“They’ll be happy now, just like we would have been if someone had given us a chance” he says kissing down Liam’s torso, trembling hands holding onto his sides.

“Could have given me up Zayn” Liam whispers, hands splaying under his armpits to bring him back up. Zayn wants to be angry at Liam for saying something like that, for thinking that Zayn could ever give him up, for anything.

“Couldn’t” he says, “never could”.

“We’re happy, Zayn,” Liam says, pulling him down for a kiss, pressing fingers against Zayn’s scar again. How can he do that? Caress the most painful patch on Zayn’s  and say that they’re happy; how can he touch Zayn without remembering the pain bleeding through his veins?

“We are _not_ ,” Zayn whispers against his lips and kisses him harder, tugs hard on Liam’s hair so maybe he’ll understand too, the pain Zayn’s feeling every time Liam smiles at him for the last time before he disappears, feel the fear Zayn felt when he was kneeling in front of Liam. Finally make him understand that they aren’t happy, they haven’t been for years.

-

It’s three days later when Zayn wakes up to closed windows and a warm body pressed against his. He’s leaving today,Zayn knows then. Liam always does this, always cherishes the last hours, keeps Zayn close, always pressed against his side. It’s 6:48 and the room smells like them and damp oak; it’s raining outside, the room is full of the faint sound of water splashing on the ground and wild waves of the sea. The whole house is empty, other than the guards outside and Danny monitoring security. It’s quiet. Zayn loves quiet and calm.

He kisses Liam’s neck, tries to wake him up, spend as much time with him as he can. Liam pushes his hand out of Zayn’s hand and presses his thumb against Zayn’s throat. He’s awake, probably has been since six, just didn’t get up, didn’t want to miss the seconds with Zayn pressed by his side.

“I love you” Liam mumbles against his skin, tracing his arm with the hand not pressed against his scar. Zayn wonders if Liam notices how predictable he is, how repeatable, how he does this every time, how I love you is only said when he’s leaving. Or if he knows, is doing it all on purpose to let Zayn know they’ve come to an end again.

“More than anything” Zayn says back, because it’s true. Zayn is the one who loves Liam more than anything, more than his pride and name. He wishes Liam could do this for him too, love him more than he loves leaving him. Zayn wants to ask him to stay; they can do The Mildenhall treasure together and sell it to the first collector Tomlinson will find for them. Do it just for the thrill of it, just to do it together and tell the world they’re not afraid. “Where are you going to go now?

“Austria,” he says, “been working on Wittlebatch for three months now, replica should be ready by now,” he sounds intimate, just the two of them know every word that comes out of his mouth.

“I’ll hear about it I’m sure, I’ll know it’s you” Zayn whispers against Liam’s chest. “Want to love you every day” he says suddenly. He meant to say it, just not yet, not now. “Want to have you here every day, want to stop this all” he sighs, and leans up to kiss Liam before Liam manages to shush him again, to tell him not to do this.

He wants to go back every day, go back 7 years back when they stole their first statue and went to the Maldives, just the two of them, in their hotel rooms where the light breeze always blew against blue curtains and it always smelled like ocean. Wants to imagine that the curtains in his room are not white and it’s ocean he hears outside, not sea. Wants to pretend that Liam is here to stay, that they’ll go to bed together tonight.

“Don’t cheat on me with that young couple” Liam says, pecking him on the lips softly again. “They have very interesting ideas about a threesome with you” he chuckles against Zayn’s cheek, so soft in Zayn’s ears and foreign, feels like years ago he heard Liam laugh.

“Dunno,” he whispers, “they are quite handsome.” Zayn never would, never glance at another person. Even if he had to wait a whole year for Liam, he wouldn’t want anyone else touching him the way Liam does, would kill the person who dares to kiss the side of his throat. Would put a bullet through anyone’s head who’d touch the places that belong to Liam only.

-

When he walks into the bedroom with two steaming mugs of tea, Liam is gone. There’s only a faint smell of his deodorant and wrinkled pillow left as evidence that he was even here. And this is so sudden, like always, the knowledge that he will be gone for months; Zayn won’t even know if he’s alive before he opens something new for him to rob.

And he’s tired, patience is wearing slim after years of waiting. It’s not as easy anymore, being left countless times, for countless months; it gets harder when it should be getting easier and Zayn’s heart is heaving, weight of the pain pulling his soul down. He can’t take much more, he’s on the edge, the knowledge of not having Liam killing every cell of his body slowly.

He calls Tomlinson, asks for the “ _idiot Bonnie and Clyde”._ He’ll give them a chance, let them be what Zayn couldn’t, give them an easier way to the top because no one gave it to him.

“What’s your last name?” Zayn asks Harry, the one with long hair and a hat big enough for three people.

“Styles,” he says quietly.

“Styles,” he repeats, “anything to do with Corden’s gunman?” he asks.

“She’s my sister,” Harry answers, eyes shining with pride. He looks like an excited dog.

“Can’t believe you share genes with her,” Zayn mutters as he turns the paper and reads Blonde’s last name- Horan. “What are you to Bobby?” Zayn turns to him, Niall’s eyes flicker up to Zayn from where he’s been staring at his hands resting too close to Harry’s.

“Son” he says so quietly Zayn nearly misses it “I’m his son” he repeats, louder this time, looking unsure of himself.

“The runaway of Bobby Horan and brother of Corden’s gunman,” he says, “with connections like this one would think you’d be perfect criminals right now. But here we are, discussing assignments over Facebook,” he claps his hands together, eyeing them with disappointed eyes. “Which I’m trying to fix right now” he gestures at the papers sprawled around his desk.

“We’ll do anything to help” Niall tells him and Zayn raises an eyebrow.

“That’s why you’re here” he informs them. “Take these.” he hands them two files, worked on them all morning, worked so he could get everything done as soon as possible, not wasting a second. “This is the project for Bellagio, casino in the middle of the city. We’re adding the new hall, get this done in three months and you’re in” Zayn tells them, watches as their eyes light up, determination settling on their faces, watches as they exchange glances and lean closer. This is painful _so_ painful to watch people love each other in front of him when he only gets this once a year.

It’s the last message he’ll send, last “ _come back”_ to Liam. Bellagio. His first casino, his first accomplishment. He’ll finally let Liam get inside; he’s ready to give this up too, ready to give up absolutely everything just to make him stay.

-

Zayn sees him before he hears it, sees him walking inside the casino, and sees him from the balcony, dressed sharp in a dark suit and wearing a smug smirk on his face. Zayn knows, knows what comes next. Liam thinks he’s smooth, thinks he’s the best, but Zayn knows his every next step, every detail- knows he’ll order the Bullet Rye and buy 23 thousand worth of chips and lose them to some middle-aged man dressed in an Armani suit.

“Mr. Malik,” Harry says, standing behind him “Mr. Payne is in the casino.”

“I know,” Zayn answers swiftly, watching Liam take his drink from the barman.

“Should we-“

“No,” Zayn interrupts him, they shouldn’t do anything, should just let Liam be, do whatever he has planned. If this is what it takes, for Bellagio to be destroyed, for Liam to finally get it, then Zayn’s ready, ready to give it up too.

“We-” Harry starts, “me and Niall, we are, we’ll be here, Zayn” he says and takes a step back, joining Niall.

“Thanks Harry” Zayn manages to say, it’ll be over soon, he thinks; today it’ll be over, for better or worse he doesn’t know, he just wants it to be over so much.

It’ll take about 45 minutes for Liam to finish playing. 5 to get to the vault. 30 seconds for alarms to activate and 11 minutes for the whole building to be evacuated.  One hour, 1 minute and 30 seconds, that’s all he has left. 1 hour 1 minute and 30 seconds before he puts it to an end.

Zayn doesn’t take his eyes off of Liam as he plays, doesn’t want to miss any movement, any smirk from him, doesn’t want to miss any second he can get out of Liam’s life. Wants to stare and record and memorize every movement. It takes 41 minutes for Liam to lose the last chip and excuse himself from the table.

“Harry,” Zayn calls him. They haven’t moved since Zayn sat down in the armchai at the edge of the balcony. “Turn off the security cameras in the vault” he orders, not taking his eyes off Liam moving gracefully through the room full of people and tables. He doesn’t notice when Harry leaves. His heart is beating fast in chest. This is Liam, his Liam, who will destroy his baby in less than 15 minutes. He doesn’t wait for security to start evacuating the building, waits exactly 2 minutes and 31 seconds before he’s up from his chair and on his way to the elevator.

The alarm rings when he’s waiting for the elevator. The vault is 23floors below; he purposely waits for the same elevator Liam left with. His left leg twitches as he steps inside the elevator. He stares at the display of floors above the door, 11.5 seconds to pass each door. He hears the faint _bang_ from above the moment the elevator doors open. It’s 126 steps from elevator to the vault and 252 beats of Zayn’s ragged heart before he reaches the 25-inch thick metal door swung open.

Zayn’s heart stops for a second when he sees Liam standing in the middle of the messy vault, two bags of money burning to the right to him. There’s money all over the floor, at least one bag they left from above, it tells Zayn he dropped the bag when the wires couldn’t lift more. It smells like money and ash and victory. Liam’s not moving, his back facing Zayn, suit untouched, not a single wrinkle or piece of dust on his clothes.

“Hey, love,” Zayn says. Liam doesn’t turn around, keeps his head down, facing the dirty money sprawled all around the floor.

“Must have missed me a lot,” he says, voice soft like nothing has happened, not today not ever, like they’re still 21 and in the Maldives and Zayn doesn’t have the bloody scar on his neck reminding him every day what he’s lost, what he’s been missing for six years.

“I have indeed” Zayn replies taking a step forward worthless pieces of paper cackling as he moves. “Does it feel good?”

“Feels like I’ve won” Liam turns to face him and shrugs. Zayn wants ask him, ask if he’s not feeling anything, if Zayn’s the only one who’s in pain, only one who thinks that they’re fucked up. Wonders if Liam is enjoying the chase, enjoys torturing him.

“You have” Zayn nods, he’s planned nothing, has nothing to say. He didn’t stand in front of the mirror and repeat the words he was going to say to Liam over and over again. He wishes he knew what to say now that everything is done.

“Was it really worth seeing me a couple of months earlier?” Liam asks. He thinks this is just so Zayn wouldn’t have to wait more? Liam doesn’t get it, he never has. He always saw their story as a romantic tragedy; he loved the extreme feeling of happiness when they finally met, when he got the message, when he heard people talking “ _Malik’s new place looks marvelous, Malik’s got a new hotel”._ He enjoys waiting, enjoys the pain of waiting. Unlike Zayn. Zayn hates it, hates the countless month of waiting, trying to come up with something new, as soon as possible, to make Liam come. He’s not surprised deep inside, he thinks, expecting it. After all he’s always been the one to sacrifice, sacrifice the gang, his people, money; he was always the one to build just to let Liam destroy, to take everything from him.

“It wasn’t just to see you a month earlier Liam,” he says calmly. He _will_ explain. He can stay calm. He can swallow down his nerves and explain everything clearly for Liam to finally understand. “This is for you, Liam, for you to stay. This is the red flag, the diamond ring, Liam” he says.

“A diamond ring?” Liam laughs lightly. “Are you proposing to me?”

“I’m asking you to stay” Zayn says slowly. Liam’s face shifts, his eyebrows rise a fraction, he’s not smirking anymore. “This is it, Liam, this is my grand gesture, this is me asking you to screw everything else and stay. This is me asking you to be happy with me, to not run anymore, not to live like we’ve got _them_ on your tail. I don’t want to suffer anymore, I don’t want it to be in pain all the time.”

"That’s how it is Zayn!" Liam shouts finally, getting out every bit of anger he’s been keeping inside for such a long time. "Don’t pretend you don’t know it. Don’t pretend not to know that we’re meant to be like that. I will _never_ be there when you wake up, we are _not_ a happy story Zayn! There is no us, no happy couple! Through so many years, how did you not get that it’s how we love? I will always leave and not come back before you open a new casino or hotel or even a whorehouse, I won’t come before you give me reason to, get it through your head Zayn!” He finishes, eyes wide with fury and head occupied with thoughts of the ache his words will give Zayn’s heart, paint the painful expression on his face that will haunt Liam for years.

"I will then, open something new every month, every week, everyday even. I will, I’ll make you come back as many times it’ll take you to finally stay, because that’s how  _you_ love Liam not me! I´m not afraid of people, I’m not afraid of what they say! Do you hear me Liam? I’m not scared of loving you!” Zayn shouts, his voice echoing throughout the hall full of destroyed equipment, smelling like ash, burnt down completely. It’ll cost millions to restore all the casino and build the new vault but Zayn can’t care less; no matter how big of a vault he’ll build, how strong of a security system he’ll get, Liam will always find a way to break it. “How many, tell me how many times you’ll have to leave me before you stay. How many times you have to blow up my millions to realize that they don’t mean anything if I don’t have you, huh? Tell me Liam! Are you still scared of them? Will you let your people take away your happiness? Because I won’t, I’m ready to lose every single persons respect to have you with me. That’s how _I_ love Liam.”

“You want to open something new every day? Okay, do it. Give me reason, give _them_ reason, for me to be here. You want to have a happy future? Want to be free? Should have thought about it a couple of years earlier Zayn. You chose this, you knew how it was going to be, you kne-“

“I didn’t!” Zayn shouts. How dare he blame Zayn, tell him he did it to himself. “I didn’t choose it, I didn’t agree to this! I was me on my knees, it was _me_ with a knife pressed to my throat, I was ready to die rather than be without you, Liam. It was not me, it was _you_! _You_ agreed to leave me. You knew I’d rather die, but you chose it, _you_ let me live like this, you fucking left me Liam, it was not me!” Zayn shouts at him. He can still see the day they found out so clearly, can hear their boss calling him a dirty fag, and remembers Liam’s words: “ _he’s not worth it”._ He can still feel the blood trickle down his neck, hear Liam’s “ _let him go and I’ll never see him again”._

Zayn’s standing there, nostrils flaring as he stares at Liam, hand twitching on his side. He’s shaking, eyes burning as he tries to fight back the tears, because Liam was all his life and if he’s going to walk away Zayn might just put the knife through his throat himself.

Liam’s not saying anything. He’s staring, chest heaving as he’s breathing hard. He’s the one to blame, they both know it, but this is the first time Zayn has brought it up, blamed Liam for where they are now, hearts heavy and tired, six years of chasing and Zayn’s finally done with this. It’s on Liam now, whatever he’s going to do now. It’s for him to decide what happens next.

57 seconds. He doesn’t say anything, stares at Zayn. 57-point-five seconds later he turns on his heels and walks out, walks by Zayn and doesn’t even look at him. 63 seconds later he’s out of the vault and Zayn is left with overwhelming sadness and a volcano-sized gap in his heart.

-

Zayn restores the whole casino in 43 days, builds the vault stronger than any of his buildings have. He buys the chandelier worth 2.4 million and hangs it in the main venue, spends 9 million to restore everything. He spends every minute of his day scheming, draws the new project himself. Spends every second of everyday keeping himself busy with his projects and missions and not letting his mind wonder to the places where Liam is.

He sends Niall and Harry to Los Angeles because seeing them together makes him so angry he wants to shoot the next person he sees. It takes 5 months before he sits down in his 13 thousand dollar desk chair, pours a whiskey and lets himself think about the moment Liam walked out of the vault. 5 months before he takes his gun out of his desk and pulls the trigger with trembling fingers, putting four bullets through the painting on the wall. Shoots the bodies right where he wants to be shot, puts three bullets in three hearts and the fourth right where Jesus’ head is.

Fuck Caravaggio, he thinks, fuck him for being famous for his mistake when Zayn lost everything for his.

He flies out to Scotland the next day, stays for 5 days and comes back with Titian’s _Diana and Callisto_ to replace the painting with bullets in it. After 9 minutes of staring at it Zayn realizes his life has no point anymore. The point walked away from him months ago. No point in anything anymore.

9 months before he wakes up with the smell of lavender filling his nose and the sight of a familiar figure sipping coffee on his balcony, and his heart jumps one more time with hope. 


End file.
